


Fallout

by rhoen



Series: Let Me Count the Ways [6]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Angst, M/M, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-15
Updated: 2017-07-15
Packaged: 2018-12-02 14:23:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11511246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rhoen/pseuds/rhoen
Summary: Genma looks for Raidou and doesn't like what he stumbles across.





	Fallout

**Author's Note:**

> Phew! I wrote something! I'm sorry I couldn't get it up sooner, I've actually been busy!
> 
> This is for everyone who has stuck with the story so far.

Seeing Raidou just before lunch left Genma feeling even worse than he had that morning. The long walk from Raidou’s home to his own, his mind on what had happened between them and acutely conscious of the absence of his senbon as well as the slightly rumpled state of his clothes, was nothing compared to the agony of having to stand there at the top of the stairs next to Aoba while playing along, pretending that nothing had happened between them. The moment Genma saw Raidou his heart had skipped a beat, soaring with elation, and his first thoughts had been of a warm greeting, and the two of them smiling with ease and talking openly about what, despite his words to Aoba, Genma liked to imagine could be a growing relationship. The childish dream died, though, before it could fully form. The embarrassment of coming face-to-face with the person he’d just been talking about hit Genma hard when he saw Raidou’s despondent expression, and his stomach fell away unpleasantly, a lump forming in his throat. Aoba, thankfully, wasn’t so slow to greet Raidou when he noticed him.

Raidou’s tone when Genma eventually managed to ask if he’d slept well was flat and dismissive, his posture tense. There had been no warmth in the forced thank you Genma received for accompanying Raidou home, and Raidou actively turned away from Genma’s gaze after that, closing himself off. Genma felt helpless, adrift in nothingness, and wondered how something that had felt so right just a few hours ago could wither and die so easily. The man who had invited him to share his bed didn’t acknowledge his parting words, and brushed coldly past him without even a backward glance.

While Genma could understand Raidou’s unwillingness to acknowledge what had happened between them around company, he couldn’t understand the change in attitude. The way Raidou switched between hot and cold, wanting him and letting him in and then closing himself off and acting as if he was doing his damnedest to forget it, hurt. Genma watched Raidou walk away, clearly still pained by the bruise on his side, and felt part of himself wither and die too. He’d hoped that things would be okay. He had hoped they could work something out. He’d never wanted to damage their friendship or cause any awkwardness between them, but he’d clearly ended up doing just that.

He couldn’t help wondering if Raidou hated or resented him now.

Aoba’s hand coming down on his shoulder made Genma start, and he nearly pulled a kunai on his friend.

“I guess you don’t want to talk about it,” Aoba said, seeming sympathetic rather than curious now. “But whatever it is, talk to him.”

Genma looked away, grinding the senbon between his teeth. Aoba was someone both he and Raidou knew and trusted, and if there was anyone they’d tell if they did become involved with each other, it would be him. But they weren’t involved. They weren’t together, and there was nothing Genma could say to him, even though Aoba could clearly read the tension between them.

“Yeah, I will,” he lied, hands stuffed deep into his pockets as they made their way along the corridor. He kicked at a scuff mark on the floor, knowing that if Raidou wouldn’t let him, there was no way Genma could approach him about this subject. He didn’t even know what he’d say anyway.

For the entirety of his lunch break and a good half hour afterwards, Genma couldn’t stop thinking about the encounter in the administration block. He all but tormented himself with it, analysing the interaction from every possible angle and finding himself reaching the same uncomfortable conclusion each time: he’d fucked up. Raidou’s unwillingness to go down on him the night before replayed in Genma’s mind, and he wondered why he hadn’t picked up on the significance of it at the time. Everything that happened both before and after – especially after – dulled the importance of it, making it easy for Genma to fall into a false sense of security and believe that Raidou actually wanted him, and that he’d meant it when he said that Genma would always have him too. It was hard not to feel like a fool for falling for the warm act and seemingly affectionate touches, and the more he thought about it, the more Genma knew he was just that: a fool.

Tsunade grew tired of his morose mood. As he brought her another armful of scrolls she huffed and dropped her brush sloppily back into its holder, fixing Genma with a pointed glare.

“Sit.”

She indicated towards the neat little table that had been brought in for Shizune to sit at while she helped tackle some of the paperwork, and Genma glanced at it, uncertain. He wondered if was worth protesting.

“You can make yourself useful and do these for me,” Tsunade continued, standing and scooping a pile of papers into her arms. The weight of it reverberated around the room as she thunked the load down onto the smaller table, and Genma couldn’t help staring.

“Well?”

Genma’s job wasn’t to do paperwork; it wasn’t in his remit. He wouldn’t even know where to start, or even if his security clearance covered what he might come across. He wavered for a moment, wondering how well it would go if he said no to Tsunade and voiced any objections.

And then he realised that he didn’t really have any. It might not be exactly what he came to work to do, but it was still a job handed down to him by the Hokage, and for the good of the village. It would also keep him busy. Very busy.

“Yes, Hokage,” he acquiesced, moving towards the table. Tsunade gave a satisfied smirk. “What do I…?”

Tsunade waved her hand dismissively at the intimidating pile of paperwork. “Sort it into geographical region. All Suna in one pile, Kiri in another, and so on. Separate anything from our country by administrative region.”

She seemed to be relieved to be shot of what Genma thought was a boring and unnecessary task anyway. He couldn’t imagine why the papers weren’t already sorted by country. He pulled the first one down, made a note of the seal at the bottom of the page, and set it to one side. He glanced at Tsunade, who was sitting back in her chair, eyes closed. He found he didn’t care. It was better to be distracted.

The menial, utterly boring job continued uninterrupted for almost an hour, the sound of shuffling paperwork and sighs being the only variation to silence, until a noise from the corridor drew Genma’s attention. He’d barely registered the rapidly approaching footsteps and had a chance to reach for a weapon before the door to Tsunade’s office was flung open, a purple-haired kunoichi bursting in. She gave a rushed bow, panting heavily as if she’d just sprinted back to Konoha from Suna, and Genma relaxed a little as he recognised her.

“Hokage!” Yuugao’s tone was urgent. “You’re needed at the hospital.”

Tsunade gave a nod, rising. “Genma, finish up here and then you’re free to go.”

“Yes, Hokage,” he acknowledged. Yuugao was clearly impatient to go, but gave Genma a measured look, as if calculating his presence. He wasn’t sure why it bothered him so much, but as Tsunade swept out of the room, Yuugao leading the way, he pushed it from his mind.

Shoving the kunai back into his weapons pouch, Genma sighed and got on with his task.

 

The end of his shift came too quickly for Genma’s liking. He pushed away from the desk with a sigh and looked out at the sky, wondering what to do with the hours still remaining in his day. He wanted to see Raidou. There was nothing in the world that could distract him from that, and it had been exhausting trying to push Raidou from his thoughts and focus on the work Tsunade had given him. Now there was next to nothing to distract himself with, and he sat for a full five minutes simply staring out the window, thinking about the other man.

Genma knew he’d made a mistake. He wanted to fix it. Their years of friendship meant too much to them both for him to allow it to be marred by a stupid decision. He just didn’t know where to start. They were both direct by nature, but Genma wasn’t sure how Raidou would react if he turned up at his door unannounced. Then again, they often did that. Raidou needed no invite or excuse to turn up at Genma’s door, and the same was true for him. It wouldn’t be out of the ordinary.

But it might be awkward, or even painful. Genma had no idea how he would react if he received the same cold dismissal as he had earlier. But at least then he would know where he, and they, stood.

Fed up with dithering and the back-and-forth in his mind, Genma stood abruptly, and with purpose. Pushing a few stray papers back into a neat little bundle, he made his way from the Hokage’s office, and down into the street.

 

Raidou still wasn’t home. Genma hovered outside the door, chewing his senbon. Raidou hadn’t been home when Genma checked immediately after work, he hadn’t been at the dango shop, he wasn’t out with any of the usual gang, and he still wasn’t home now. Frowning, Genma tried not to let it get to him, but no matter which way he looked at it, Raidou was avoiding him, and it hurt. It stung worse than any wound Genma had sustained so far in life, and he tried to blink away and ignore the stinging in his eyes as he stood there on the darkened porch, the evening giving way to true night.

Raidou didn’t want to see him. Genma was too stunned by that realisation to feel anything other than numbness. As he eventually turned and slowly walked away in a daze he supposed it was shock. There hadn’t been a time in either of their lives where they’d shut the other out. All that warmth, all that affection he’d thought he’d felt last night hardened and died, withering to cold emptiness. He’d been wrong. Raidou didn’t want that from him.

With one last glance towards the darkened windows of Raidou’s home, Genma wondered how he’d managed to get it all so spectacularly wrong.

 

The morning didn’t bring much of an improvement. Genma rolled over sluggishly, wishing he didn’t have a day off. There was nothing to do, and he knew he’d end up thinking about Raidou too much. He’d struggled to fall asleep, his mind choosing to torment him with memories of something he should never have had, and yet wouldn’t give back for anything. He would like to say that it hadn’t been worth it, but in truth, he wasn’t sure. It was what came after that wasn’t worth it.

With nothing but a day of dreariness ahead of him, Genma struggled to drag himself from bed. He decided he’d shower and tidy later. At that moment, he needed to be elsewhere. He wasn’t sure where that was exactly, or why, but he knew he needed to be outside, far, far away. As he tugged on the closest outfit, lethargy making him slower than usual, he wondered if he could maybe outrun his thoughts, or his problems. It would be worth a try.

It was close to mid-morning, and the streets were too busy for his taste. Taking to the roof, Genma set a punishing pace, making his way to the outskirts of the village, and then into the woods beyond.

He found nothing of value there. The silence and solitude helped even less than the noise of the crowded streets in the village, and as he paused, panting heavily and his muscles aching from the strain, he felt like he’d gone in completely the wrong direction.

The journey home was at a more sedate pace, and, feeling like he’d worked through some of his frustration and helplessness simply by focusing on physical exertion, Genma felt a little more his usual self, whatever that might now be. He gave a humourless huff, kicking at a stray pebble as he slowed to a walk to pass through the main gates. He wasn’t sure what he was anymore. Reckless, he supposed. He’d ruined the best friendship he’d ever had simply because he’d wanted his friend too much to stop and think about what the repercussions might be.

He wondered what anyone looking at him might think of him or say if they knew how he felt about his best friend.

Hands stuffed into his pockets, Genma slowly ambled through the crowded streets, realising as the smells of different food stalls and shops reached him that he’d neglected to eat breakfast. While it was tempting to hand over money in exchange for a ready prepared meal, he knew he had to buy groceries anyway. That didn’t stop him hovering by the dango shop, though, remembering when it used to be his and Raidou’s usual haunt, along with Kurenai, Asuma and Gai.

“Genma!”

He shouldn’t have been surprised to find Anko there, half finished dango in hand. He gave her what he hoped was a smile, but probably came across more as a grimace. “Hey, Anko.”

“Are you going to the hospital?”

Genma faltered, frowning. “What? No. Why would I be going there?”

The wide-eyed look he got in response made his stomach drop away sickeningly, a sudden chill gripping him. He knew he didn’t want to hear the answer to his own question.

“You’re going to see him, aren’t you? Or have you been already? I was going to ask you to to say ‘hi’ for me.”

“Raidou…”

The name passed his lips as barely more than a whisper, the world distorting as the pieces fell into place. Raidou was in the hospital. How, or why, Genma didn’t know, and almost as bad that was the fact he hadn’t known. No one had notified him.

He didn’t care if Raidou didn’t want to see him. He needed to be there. A sense of panic and anger filled him, and he didn’t even bother saying goodbye to Anko before darting towards the hospital. Why would Raidou keep this from him? Why would no one tell him?

Normally Genma would make an effort to appear calm and collected, and not to fluster the staff on duty. Today, he didn’t care. He all but collided with the front desk, narrowly avoiding knocking over a young child, and didn’t even wait to be acknowledged before speaking.

“I’m here to see Namiashi Raidou,” he bit out, grinding down so hard on the senbon his teeth ached.

It was probably a good thing that the receptionist didn’t spare him anything more than a fleeting glance. She seemed more interested in her work, and after briefly scanning a document, her pen running down the names, she gave him his answer: “Ward Two, room five.”

He’d started to move even before she’d finished speaking, his blood turned to ice. He was familiar enough with the hospital to know that Ward Two was the high obs wing, for critical but stable patients. He’d been a patient in that ward enough times himself; all shinobi had. He darted along the corridors, weaving between slow-moving visitors and dodging past doctors and ambling patients, desperate to reach Raidou. He couldn’t quite understand how Raidou ended up being admitted to hospital; he’d seemed okay the night he’d returned, apart from a few aches and bruises. It made the situation seem surreal, whichever way he looked at it. That night seemed an ethereal dream now, while the sterile, clinical corridors he now made his way along seemed to belong to an alternate reality. It didn’t feel like it was really happening. His mind offered a myriad of reasons for Raidou to be in hospital, each more terrible than the last, and pushed him closer to panic then he would ever like to admit.

And why had no one told him? After his fear for Raidou’s health, that was the next biggest demon tormenting him. Patients in Ward Two were sometimes comatose, but even if that was the case, why hadn’t he heard? Raidou was down as his first contact, and he was sure he was Raidou’s…

Genma had no idea what he was about to walk into as he reached the ward. Room five was three doors down on the left, but as he reached the already open door he hesitated for a moment, afraid of what he might find. His heart was in his mouth, stomach tied in knots. There was nothing in the world that could keep him from taking that final step, but at the same time he was afraid to.

He was caught off guard by a nurse exiting the room, and in his surprise tensed, failing to return the homely smile she offered him. He knew he recognised her, but couldn’t recall a name.

“Genma,” she said warmly. “I’m glad you’re keeping out of trouble at least.”

“I, uh… Yeah,” he managed, glancing at the open door.

“Go on,” she smiled, already turning to walk away. “I’ll be back in half an hour.”

Genma was glad he wasn’t expected to respond. He was too distracted. His attention turned back to Raidou’s room, and he took that final step.

There was no word in the world that could describe how he felt. Fear, elation, longing and relief tore through him, leaving him battered and defenseless as his gaze fell on Raidou. His friend was sitting in bed, propped up by pillows, and staring right at him, dark rings under his eyes and skin unhealthily pallid. He looked like he’d barely escaped death, and Genma almost lost the capacity to remain standing. Raidou had been here, suffering, and he’d not known. He’d not been told.

Of all the emotions that won through, he was surprised to find it was anger. He’d never truly been angry at Raidou before, but now, standing there like an idiot and feeling sidelined, he couldn’t help the fury that rose within him. He was hurt. It felt like Raidou had cast him aside, as if their friendship meant nothing to him.

“What the fuck, Raidou!?” he demanded, voice wavering. “What the  _ fuck _ ? Why did no one tell me? I had to find out from Anko!”

Raidou’s gaze fell as Genma took a step forward, and then he turned away. The movement stung Genma more severely than any physical blow could.

“From Anko! I thought we were friends, Rai. I thought we had each other’s backs no matter what, and didn’t do shit like this to each other. I thought you cared enough to at least let me know what happened to you. How can you let me find out like this? From fucking Anko!? I searched everywhere for you last night. Why did no one tell me?”

“I didn’t want to bother you.”

Genma tried to scoff, but choked on the sharp edge of threatening tears. The idea that Raidou would keep something this important from him cut him to the core, and he struggled to find his voice again. “‘Didn’t want to bother you’? What the fuck, Raidou!? How could you—?”

He had to stop, and to look away to try and hide the tears stinging his cheeks. When he continued, his voice was barely more than a broken whisper.

“How could you think that of me? You know I’d do anything for you.”

And that, he realised, was the problem. Raidou didn’t want that from him. He wasn’t comfortable in Genma’s company anymore. He didn’t want him there.

A chill crept over Genma’s skin as something within him withered and died. He couldn’t bring himself to look back towards Raidou, towards the friend he’d managed to alienate by opening up and letting a little of what he truly desired show through. If Raidou really wanted him there, he would have asked for Genma to be notified.

There was nothing left to do but walk away. As much as it hurt to do so, and despite every fibre of his being screaming at him that he should be moving towards Raidou, not away, Genma turned and put one foot in front of the other, his throat choked with emotions he knew he couldn’t face right then.

“I’m sorry I cared,” he managed, certain that Raidou heard him in the stillness of the room. He didn’t care if Raidou picked up on the flatness of his voice, or had seen the tear that fell. It didn’t matter anymore.

Still, as he walked from the room, Genma couldn’t help pausing again, whispering a fervent wish: “Feel better soon, Rai.”

**Author's Note:**

> Things can only get better, right?


End file.
